


Maybe We Should Keep It Simple

by neptuneking



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Pre-Flash, Tumblr Prompt, and charming oliver, canon until its not, good stuff, i love awkward flustered barry can u BELIEVE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8494120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neptuneking/pseuds/neptuneking
Summary: The fly decides to land straight on the tip of his nose, causing him to flail his limbs to dart it off. It stays near so he starts swatting at it, and his hand is gliding through air until it’s not. Barry is stunned as he slowly brings his hand away from it’s position in smacking Oliver Queen in the face.
This is not his life. He’s died and gone to wherever, this is not happening. He just accidentally slapped not only the CEO of the company he’s at, but also the billionaire I-survived-five-years-on-an-island-and-came-back-looking-incredibly-hot playboy.
“Oh, my God. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I did not mean to do that.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this up in like an hour, i saw a tumblr prompt that said "Person A is slapping away a fly when they accidentally slap person B in the face. This is how your OTP meets." (posted by otpblr) and i couldnt resist making it about these two.   
> happy reading!

It had been a stressful few days. 

After lying to his boss about having food poisoning so he could investigate an odd case six-hundred miles away, missing his train to Starling, and then getting soaked trying to get a cab. Just, Barry was justifiably agitated. 

Which leads to him being… Flustered. And not in the good way where his cheeks tint a hot pink and his eyes go wide with a look of amazement. That typically happens when he’s just been kissed. So, sadly for him, rarely. Not that he  _ can’t _ get kissed by someone, boy or girl, it just doesn’t really happen often. Probably because he gets nervous and starts babbling about the chemicals released in your brain after such a task and then never gets to feel the lips pressed against his.  

He’s not paying full attention to his surroundings when he speedily walks into Queen Consolidated. He’s fumbling with his suitcase and satchel, late as always. Everyone that knows him pings being tardy as one of his main traits. He would’ve arrived sooner if it had not been for the fact that fate was against him, in every way possible. 

There’s a fucking fly. 

Now, Barry is honestly not the type to willingly kill God’s creatures but holy, this is beyond irritating. It’s buzzing around his head as he finally stops in the middle of the warehouse to survey who’s already in the building. He spots a group of people and heads toward them, one obviously has a badge. The fly easily follows, for a reason that Barry can’t muster up. He doesn’t particularly smell like anything nice, he’s still damp from the rain outside, for crying out loud. 

Their backs are facing him as he wheels his suitcase to a stop, and speaks up about the matter they were discussing. “Actually, it was only one guy.” 

The fly decides to land straight on the tip of his nose, causing him to flail his limbs to dart it off. It stays near so he starts swatting at it, and his hand is gliding through air until it’s not. Barry is stunned as he slowly brings his hand away from it’s position in smacking  _ Oliver Queen _ in the face. 

This is not his life. He’s died and gone to wherever, this is not happening. He just accidentally slapped not only the CEO of the company he’s at, but also the billionaire I-survived-five-years-on-an-island-and-came-back-looking-incredibly-hot playboy. 

“Oh, my God. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I did not mean to do that.” His voice is full of dread as he scans the man’s face, searching for any sign of anger or annoyance. He continues when all he gets is a blank, albeit confused, look. “Just, there was this fly, and it landed on my nose and… I… Yeah, ah, sorry I’m late.” 

He starts to full on ramble then, about all of the reasons he’s late but when he’s met with unimpressed eyes he stops and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Ok, great. But, who the hell are you?” The officer questions, no real heat behind his words. This is still intimidating, because Barry’s eyes linger on Oliver who is now wearing a smirk, although more tamed than the ones he’s seen in magazines or on tv from before his disappearance. 

“And do your parents know that you’re here, assaulting businessmen?” His voice is even better in person but Barry can’t let himself get whisked away. He’s here for a reason, not to indulge in his past teenage fantasies. 

“I’m Barry Allen. I’m from the Central City Police Department, I work as a CSI. And I’m so, so sorry about that, Mr. Queen. Truly, I meant to get the fly, not your amazi- uhm, your face. Not your face.” He finds himself stumbling over his apology, looking down to breathe in and smooth his hands on his jeans to stop them from getting clammy. He hears Oliver let out a huff similar to a chuckle and his nerves soothe a little. 

The officer speaks up again, sending Barry into a frenzy of explaining everything he already knew about the crime scene. Which was a lot. He senses the CEO giving him glances through his ‘theory’ and attempts to pretend not to notice. Really, why would he be staring at some 24 year-old forensic scientist from Central who slapped him in the face minutes prior unless he, 1) didn’t trust/like him, or 2) … Was there even a number two? Not likely. 

Felicity, as he learned her name moments before, gets pulled aside by the cop to talk in hushed whispers then. Barry thinks nothing of it, but soon realizes he’s  _ basically _ alone with Oliver Queen. A tiny bit. Enough to make Iris jealous if he were to tell her about his trip here. 

He pushes himself up from his crouching position in front of the broken centrifuge, snapping his head up once he hears a throat being cleared. Oliver’s gazing at him, almost expectant. 

“Mr. Allen, would you like to go talk somewhere more, private?” Holy shit. Yes, he very much would like to, even if it’s only to discuss the case. More time to admire the broadness of his shoulders in that suit? Count Barry in. 

He wordlessly nods, maybe a little too eager if Oliver’s amused smile is anything to go by. The older leads them up a small flight of stairs and into an empty office that has glass panes stretched along the far wall. It’s obviously not one that anybody uses, seeing as there isn’t anything in it other than a desk and a few boxes. 

Barry means to ask what exactly it is that he wanted to chat about as Oliver closes the door, but he’s immediately being crowded up against it. The brunette momentarily panics at the sudden change of events before realizing the hands firmly on his hips aren’t there to hurt him, but because he’s about to get kissed. 

Oliver easily leans in and captures his lips, Barry still too shocked to properly return it which makes the man retreat and look concerned. Shit. 

“Sorry, I didn’t even ask. Did I… Did I read the signals wrong back there?” Barry never, in his entire life, thought he’d ever be cornered with a distressed looking Oliver Queen asking him about signals. Thankfully, he pushed aside the initial comprehension and quickly shook his head. 

“No! I, I wasn’t even aware I was sending signals, but like. I like this, love it. We can. Yeah, this is okay. Great, even.” Barry forced his thought process to cut off there, blurting out next, “Please kiss me.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

And with that Oliver was gripping either side of Barry’s neck, pulling him in to make contact. The younger responded with enthusiasm this time, kissing with a force that means business. He let his hands wander to Oliver’s suit jacket, taking a tight hold of it, unapologetically using it to bring the man in closer. He was able to align their bodies, carefully scooting them a little to the side so the doorknob wouldn’t dig into his back. 

“Oliver.” Barry sighed out when they parted and the dirty blond started to kiss down his jaw, then to his neck. He was tilting his head to give easier access when he noticed  _ it.  _ A fly was gliding towards them as if on a mission. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

 

-

 

Nobody comments, as much as they want to according to the curious peers they get when they head back into the warehouse; Barry with ruffled hair and a pleased smile and Oliver with a blooming bruise on his cheek and loosened tie. 

  
What happens in Starling, stays in Starling. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments and kudos always appreciated :)


End file.
